My throat feels tight as I stare at the teapot. Only now do I recognize the aromas wafting from it. The blend is one of Mother’s favorites—lavender, chamomile, vetiver, and lemon balm. Mine too, although I was always loathe to admit it before. My voice finds its way past the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
Mr. Meeks extends a hand and squeezes my shoulder, then nods at Lorelei with a warm smile. “I’ll be in the surgery if you need anything.”
Once he leaves, I make my way to the couch. My hands tremble as I pour the tea. Tears prick my eyes as the aroma grows stronger. I bring the cup to my nose and deeply inhale. Sipping slowly, the warm liquid dances over my tongue, soothing me with its comforting familiarity.
“I don’t trust him.” Lorelei’s voice shatters my reverie. She walks toward me, eyes narrowed to slits. “This man is your beloved mentor?”
I furrow my brow as I look at her. “You should be kinder to him, Lorelei. He’s our host. I would be sleeping in a prison if it weren’t for Mr. Meeks.”
“I don’t like his talk of experimenting on you.”
“He wasn’t talking about experimentingonme. I’m sure he just wants to ask me some questions. Besides, of course it sounds odd to you. Healing in Faerwyvae is far different than it is here. In the human realm, we make breakthroughs in the medical arts by way of experimentation.”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s more than that. It’s...” Her words dry on her lips, and for a moment she sways on her feet.
“What is it?”
She puts a hand over her forehead, then comes to sit next to me on the couch. “I’m not feeling well.”
My stomach sinks. I haven’t worried much over Lorelei’s state of health since last night, but being this far from Faerwyvae can’t be getting any easier for her. I set down my cup and reach for the other, then I fill it with tea and hand it to her. “Drink this. I doubt it will help much, but you’ll feel calmer. It has lavender, chamomile, lemon balm—”
“Iron?” Her eyes are wide as she stares at the cup in her hands. She all but throws the cup on the table, rising to her feet. “Those cups are painted iron. That’s what is making me feel ill right now.”
I look at the two cups, both painted white. There’s no sign that they’re made from iron; before I examined them, I assumed they were porcelain. “Why would he serve us...” I can’t bring myself to finish my train of thought.
Lorelei backs away from the table. “We need to get out of here.”
My heart begins to race. “It can’t be what we think this is. It was a mistake, an accident. An experiment, perhaps.”
She darts toward the front door but pauses before it. “Someone’s on the other side.”
I run to her and take her hand in mine, then pull her toward the side door. It leads to the hallway and the kitchen, where we can leave out back. I fling the door open and freeze. Mr. Meeks stands on the other side, an apologetic smile on his face as I hear the front door swing open behind us.
I whirl to find Mr. Osterman in the doorway, a spear of ash and iron in his one remaining hand. His eyes burn into Lorelei. Spear aimed, he charges forward. I launch myself toward Lorelei, but an arm pulls me back.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Mr. Meeks whispers as something metal covers my nose and mouth. An inhalation cone. I recognize the familiar scent of chloroform.
Lorelei’s scream is the last thing I hear.
12
Asubtle sound creeps upon my awareness.Evie. Evie.
It’s my name, I realize, although the voice sounds far away.
Evie. Evie.
“Evie.” The voice becomes clear. It’s Aspen’s. I pry my eyes open and find myself lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. Aspen stands over me, face pale as his eyes take in his surroundings. “What in oak and ivy is this place?”
I push myself to sit, expecting to feel a head rush, but nothing more than an odd sense of mental fog comes over me. Like Aspen, I look around the room. It reminds me of Mr. Meeks’ surgery, but it’s far too small and cluttered, not to mention unfamiliar. Shelves line the walls full of bottles and boxes.
My heart leaps into my throat when I notice the operating tools laid out on a tray next to me. That’s when I realize I’m not in a bed but on a table. An operating table.
Did something happen? Was I injured?
I try to recall the last thing I remember, but it’s a blur. There was my visit with my mother. Was I hurt? No, I remember leaving. Then returning to Mr. Meeks’ house. I remember the parlor, the tea, the arrival of Mr. Osterman…
Panic threatens to overwhelm me, but Aspen’s presence and the violet aura around him tell me something important; this is a dream. Was my last memory a dream too? It must have been. Mr. Meeks would never...he’d never...
